


The Moon was Red and Dangerous

by RedThistle



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Adorable Bruce Banner, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awesome Jarvis (Iron Man movies), BAMF Clint Barton, BAMF Tony Stark, Battle of New York (Marvel), Bruce Banner Feels, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Bruce was never found by Ross, Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers (2012), Ceiling Vent Clint Barton, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Deaf Clint Barton, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Experimental Style, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Jarvis (Iron Man movies) is a Good Bro, Kinda, M/M, Mild Bashing, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mutant Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Or shield, POV Tony Stark, Panic Attacks, Post-Avengers (2012), Post-Battle of New York (Marvel), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, SHIELD, Science Boyfriends, Science Bros, Slow Burn, Spideysense, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Team Bonding, Team as Family, Thor (Marvel) is Not Stupid, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Has Trust Issues, Tony Stark Needs Sleep, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony stark has powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:27:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22329316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedThistle/pseuds/RedThistle
Summary: “Where are you going?” Steve asked. He had yet to move.“I’m going to provoke some superheroes.”ORIn which Bruce Banner successfully remained out of sight, out of mind in Brazil and after the events of the invasion of New York, Tony Stark ponders the team, his new ability, and the cute, bright, new employee at Stark Industries.-(Based off the prompt:“You’re a regular office worker born with the ability to “see” how dangerous a person is with a number scale of 1-10 above their heads. A toddler would be a 1, while a skilled soldier with a firearm would be a score of 7. Today, you notice the reserved new guy at the office measures a 10.”)
Relationships: Bruce Banner & Tony Stark, Bruce Banner/Tony Stark, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark (mentioned), Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Avengers Team
Comments: 76
Kudos: 302





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there and welcome to The Moon was Red and Dangerous.
> 
> This is a story based off two AUs, the first being that Ross never found Bruce in Brazil. He was never found by SHIELD and therefore never called in for the Avengers. (Thor saved Tony after the portal) The world still thinks he died in a freak accident. The second AU being that when Tony entered the portal, he developed some type of power that operates a bit like Spiderman's Spidey-sense. He sees colors that determine someone's current danger level with green being harmless and red being extremely dangerous. These ratings are scaled for an average civilian which is why all the Avengers are (initially) never below orange.
> 
> I tried a more experimental writing style for this. I've never quite written anything that isn't excessive angst, so this is new territory for me. I figured that I may as well see what response I get, and that may depend on whether I write another chapter or not.
> 
> Anyway, enough talking. I hope you enjoy.

It was cold. He could feel nothing but cold. The cold, inky darkness. Darker than the caves in Afghanistan. Darker than the red blood that filled his ledger. Even when he closed his eyes, he could still see it. It was absorbing him.

He didn’t want to die, but he’d made that decision once he had gone through the portal, hadn’t he?

He was weightless. Perhaps he’d be forgiven of his actions for his sacrifice. For once in his life, he’d done something worthy. Maybe if there was some sort of being out there, it would have mercy upon him.

Then red and green and yellow flared at the back of his eyes and _painpainpainpaINPAIN-_

* * *

He woke up.

 _“Good morning, Sir,"_ greeted JARVIS. _"Today is May 15th, 2012. It is 11 am. It is currently 78 degrees outside, partly cloudy. Mrs. Potts would like me to remind you that you have a meeting with the chair in two hours and she says, ‘Tony, I swear if you miss this, there are no words for what I’ll do to you.’ Additionally, Agent Barton wishes to speak to you about the improvements to his arrows and his hearing aids.”_

Tony just sighed and turned over, pulling his blankets closer to him. He didn’t want to get out of bed. It had been about two weeks since the invasion. Point Break and Reindeer Games had made their way off-planet. The spy twins were somewhere around the tower. At least he thought so. Clint, at least, was somewhere around the tower. Cap had moved in as well, albeit temporarily because he still hated Tony’s guts and thought he was a giant asshole. Tony knew he was an asshole. Did it mean he planned to change for Howard’s American Prize Monkey? No.

He pushed that thought aside and after another minute finally rolled out of bed with a groan. The moment his feet touched the ground, his stomach rolled violently and he found himself staggering to the bathroom. He didn’t remember drinking last night, but he never vomited unless he was hungover. That would account for the throbbing headache too. Shadowy dots danced in his vision. Tony leaned his head against the wall. The tile was cold, cold enough to seep through his pants and into his skin. Everything was cold and black and- he hauled himself to his feet.

Perhaps it would have been more merciful if Thor hadn’t jumpstarted his arc reactor after the fall.

When Tony stepped out of the elevator, it seemed the team was assembled in the communal kitchen for an early breakfast. He grimaced internally. He wasn’t used to sharing his space with people. He was Tony Stark. He didn’t share. Not to mention, he had a headache and all he wanted to do was wrap himself in blankets and drink alcohol. Yet as he stepped out, he forced a cocky smirk to his face, and loudly greeted, “Morning, my world-saving buddies.”

“Budher? I barely even know her,” Barton quipped without looking up from his pancakes. Romanoff looked thoroughly unimpressed. Rogers quietly snorted. Tony doubted he understood the joke and was laughing more at Natasha’s reaction.

“Worst joke I’ve heard all day. Ten out of ten, Barton. You’re off to a great start.”

“Speaking of great starts, Stark, what’re you doing up this early?” Romanoff asked the engineer, fixing him what could either be a curious look or an attempt on his life.

“Yeah, I’m not sure you’ve woken up before ten...ever,” Barton chimed in. “Sometimes I go to invite you to our morning runs, but I remember that you don’t wake up before 3 pm.”

Tony scowled half-heartedly and made a beeline for the coffee machine. It wasn’t his fault that his nightmares kept him awake all night. “Hardy-har,” he drawled sarcastically. “I wouldn’t want to go on a run with the lot of you soldiers and spies anyway.”

A hand landed on his shoulder. The engineer immediately tensed. For a man so large, Rogers was deceptively quiet.

“You should join us one day. It would be fun,” said Howard’s American Prize Monkey. Tony tried to refrain from being as aggressive as he wanted to be when he brushed the blonde’s hand off his shoulder. For some reason, it almost felt like Rogers wanted to be his friend now that it was all over. Or at least on friendly terms. He had the suspicion that Barton or Romanoff had talked the soldier into it.

“Of course you would say that, Capsicle. You probably run faster than a stock drops during a scandal,” Tony muttered.

Rogers gave him a small smile that made the world erupt in soft orange light. “That didn’t sound like a no.”

“Well, let me say it now. No.” With that, he turned his attention back to the coffee machine. Dark liquid poured into his mug. Rogers sighed and made his way to the table. Out of the corner of his eye, Tony watched him go, snatching his cup off the counter. He was still glowing. That was not right. He blinked, turning fully to face the group at the table. Natasha was bathed in red, Clint in a color similar to Steve’s. Steve plucked Natasha’s knife from her with a tsk and his color turned from a soft orange to a burning red. What the hell was going on? He needed to check the coffee. The coffee that he had yet to take a single sip of.

Suddenly, his legs felt weak. He dropped his mug. Clint and Natasha’s glows turned bright red as one. He was hallucinating. He had to be hallucinating. What was wrong with him? The man closed his eyes and shook his head hard. Red yellow green flashed in his eyelids before finally settling to black.

“Stark!”

Whiskey-colored eyes opened to find both the relaxed atmosphere and the glows that had filled the room earlier both to be gone.

“I’m fine,” Tony said tersely, turned tail, and fled.

* * *

The thing was, the glows didn’t seem to be a one-off thing. They just kept reappearing throughout the day. Pepper was a leaf green, the same color as the people of the board. Happy was a very light green, barely tinging on yellow. People on the streets that he viewed through the window seemed to glow from green to yellow. Throughout the day, Tony observed that Rogers and Romanoff never dipped below orange and Barton only ever glowed anything less than traffic-cone colored was when he was asleep with his hearing aids out.

No one else could seem to see the colors. He could see them on the cameras, too. He was pretty sure he was going crazy. He spent a few days holed up in his lab. The colors would flick on and off without his control. He had no idea what their significance was, or if they even meant anything. Maybe his brain had finally broken for good after the time in the portal. Of course, the natural thing that one did when they were going insane was to drink. Pepper came in once screaming about him slacking on his responsibilities. For a moment, it looked like she was almost going to receive a yellow glow, but it never got there. When JARVIS spoke, he could hear green and it was the most uncanny thing he had ever felt.

His first hypothesis was that the color was an indicator of a person’s emotions with green being happy/content, yellow being annoyed/upset, and red obviously being angry. Yet, that didn’t make sense when he thought back to the scene in the kitchen a few days ago, unless his rejection had angered Rogers. But Rogers hadn’t turned red until after he had picked up the knife. And why would JARVIS be green? He was technically a machine, albeit an amazingly programmed one. Regardless, he didn’t quite have emotions.

He finally figured it out like all great scientists did— drunk, half-mad off sleep deprivation, and with the help of America’s Favorite Prize Monkey.

* * *

_“Sir, Captain Rogers is requesting entry to the lab.”_

“No,” Tony simply mumbled. His face may have been stuck to the table. Either that or his head was too heavy to lift.

_“He is using his override code from Mrs. Potts, sir. My apologies.”_

When did Pepper give Rogers an override code? And why? She knew that the lab was his safe space, his sacred space. Did the rest of the team have an override code? He felt a pang of hurt at this idea, but he brushed it aside. He had other things to deal with now. Large, spangly, things.

“Tony.”

He found the strength to raise his head to glare at Steve. The blonde didn’t look impressed at his collection of coffee cups, Chinese takeout boxes, and empty whiskey bottles. Tony sneered at the judgment and pity on his perfect face. He knew he looked a mess, but he had just gone through a portal not that long ago and he was maybe losing it. He was entitled to keep his lab however he wanted.

“What the hell do you want, Rogers?” he spat. “Get out of my lab.”

Rogers ignored him. “You look like hell, Tony. What’s wrong?” The color was coming back, swirling between yellow and orange.

“What’s wrong? Well, for one, you’re here,” Tony drawled, and for one second, Steve’s color flickered to red.

Oh? Was this support for his initial emotion theory? Was he such a nuisance to the team that they only ever diverged from annoyance and anger when he wasn’t around? Steve’s color had been near-yellow and now it was slowly verging onto red.

“I’m serious, Tony. The team is worried about you. Pepper is worried about you. Why do you hole yourself up in here?”

“Oh yes. Pepper is o-so-worried that she thought it would be a great idea to give you an invitation to invade my space…”

“Stark-” Rogers’ voice had taken on a warning tone. Tony didn’t particularly care. The color was almost completely red now.

“What Rogers? You gonna tell me how dear ol’ Howard would be disappointed in me? About how he would never do what I’m doing? About how he was a great teammate and an _amazing_ father?” Tony spat venomously, bristling like a pissed-off cat. “Well, I’ve got news for you, Cap. I was never recommended for the Avengers Initiative. I’m just a consultant. So I don’t have to come out and interact with the lot of you if I don’t want to. Got it, Spangles?”

Steve’s expression was hurt. It morphed to anger quickly enough. His glow was red. He took a step towards the lab table.

_**DANGER** _

Suddenly, Tony found himself clutching his hands as a splitting headache gripped him. The world distorted. All he could see was red. It clogged his senses, wrapped around his head, smothered him, choked him. When the feeling finally dissipated like smoke after a fire, he could finally crack open an eye. Steve was on the other side of the room. Papers fluttered to the ground. Tony had no idea what had just happened. Rogers looked as bewildered as he felt, the glow that had once emanated from his body gone again. The blonde looked around the room, body tense.

“Stark, what the hell was that?”

The engineer didn’t answer, thinking about the events that led up to whatever this was. Red glow. Danger. Was it some sort of warning? But what was the headache after it What had happened to the lab? It didn’t make sense. It needed further testing. He got up, walking past twisted scrap metal and papers.

“Where are you going?” Steve asked. He had yet to move.

“I’m going to provoke some superheroes.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Readers: I can't wait to see here this goes! This looks so promising.  
> Me, knowing I'll eventually disappoint y'all: :') thank you
> 
> Hi and welcome to chapter 2 of The Moon was Red and Dangerous. I've got nothing really to say here except thank you for all the support and I'm very grateful. I really hope you enjoy.

The first (technically second) Avenger that he tried to piss off was Natasha. He was tired, a little drunk, and beginning to feel unusually sore, but he suspected that if he gave Steve the chance, he would go warn the others on the team. Then he wouldn’t be able to explore his new internal warning system within an enclosed area where he wouldn’t end up being sued.

He went to find her. She was in the living room, watching Say Yes to the Dress. He stopped in the threshold, suddenly wondering if it was a good idea to bother an assassin. She had already noticed him, however, greeting, “Stark,” without moving.

The color flickered back in. Orange. It disappeared. “Romanoff.” He strode over the couch, very conscious of his thumping mechanical heart and sat down. For a moment, he watched the show in silence. Then he grabbed the remote. “Hope you don’t mind,” was the only warning he gave before changing the channel to a cooking show. He hated cooking shows. He was pretty sure Natasha hated cooking shows.

“I was watching that,” she said, voice laced with poison. Her expression was chilled, cold. She must have held _Say Yes to the Dress_ at a great deal of importance. Her color flickered in. Still orange.

“Yep. I’m sure you were,” he agreed, and made no move to change the channel back to TLC. Natasha stared at him. If looks could kill, he would be dead. But then she looked away and seemed to relax into the couch.

“Good thing I record the shows,” she said and got up. “Enjoy yourself, Stark.”

 _This had been a stupid idea in the first place,_ Tony thought as she sashayed away. He needed to go harder. So much harder. He needed to be extreme. He needed to do something that a sober Tony Stark would regret and something even a slightly tipsy one was a bad idea.

Three glasses of whiskey and one impromptu nap later, he had his plan.

The second (third) Avenger Tony tried to piss off was a lot more successful. Ironically, it was a two-for-one. Tony didn’t think he would ever forget the look on the archer’s face when he walked into his room and found it completely and utterly trashed. Arrows, snapped. Bow, crushed. Extra hearing aids disassembled. Any personal pictures crumbled, ripped, torn. Clothes were strewn across the floor. It looked and smelled like someone had set off a small bomb. A Tony Stark bomb. Then Natasha peeked out from behind a speechless, slack-jawed, Clint and Tony realized just how badly he had miscalculated this.

Red painted his vision in an instant, bright and vicious. It was overwhelming. It gripped his heart just as Barton gripped him by the shirt. He couldn’t hear the rightful abuse being spat at him through the ear-piercing, high-frequency noise that allowed his headache to return.

**_DANGER_ **

It rippled through the room, engulfing them all like a tidal wave. What it was, he still did not know. But he caught the look of shock in those gray eyes right before it blasted through. Clint flew back like a gust of wind has knocked him, and the destruction of the room shifted as well, broken arrows finding their way into the wall, clothing tumbling as if in a washing machine, paper airborne.

Natasha had yet to enter the room. She was left untouched. Her shift to a battle stance was near undetectable throughout all the chaos, but she was like a beacon of red light to Tony.

“The fuck, Stark?” Clint squawked. There was still clear anger in his voice but it was layered in unease and apprehension.

Tony took the chance to ease his rolling stomach by vomiting all over the carpeted ground and promptly blacked out.

* * *

He felt like shit the next morning, to be blunt. This looked like it was going to be one of his worst hangovers. He didn’t know what was more disconcerting. The fact that someone had tucked him into bed or the fact that his clothing had been changed. Actually both were probably equally disconcerting.

_Good morning, Sir. Today is May 19th, 2012-_

“Mute, JARVIS,” Tony groaned. The silence was blissful. Maybe he shouldn’t get out of bed today. What had even happened last night? All he remembered was the color red, Captain Steven Grant Rogers, and consuming an inappropriate amount of alcohol. A horrible thought came to him. Had he had sex with Steve last night? Oh, that would be terrible. Out of all the people that drunk him had to have sex with, why Steve? _Why?_

Then it all came back to him. He had wrecked Clint’s room. Oh damn. “Oh damn,” he repeated aloud. Clint probably hated him right now. The entire team probably hated him right now. At least they wouldn’t bug him anymore. He rolled over onto his side. “Where is the team now, JARV?” he asked after a second, even though he definitely didn’t care.

_They are currently in the communal room, Sir. They appear to be waiting for you to wake up and get coffee._

“How long have they been waiting?”

_Approximately three hours. Would you like me to tell them to disperse?_

Tony sighed, rubbing a palm against his face. He supposed he technically owed them an explanation for his behavior the night before. Though telling them to leave would be tempting. Perhaps he could just have breakfast on his floor, hide out in his lab for the rest of the day.

“No,” he found himself saying instead. “Go ahead and tell them I’ll be down soon for whatever team meeting they want to have.”

He needed to shower, but he really didn’t want to. Water. The thought made him shudder a little. He settled for wiping his armpits and brushing his teeth. As he was rinsing, he looked in the mirror. He looked pale and sick with dark bruises under his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept for 4 days. Maybe he hadn’t. He didn’t remember. His hair was a mess. He half-heartedly tried to push it back. It just flopped into his eyes again. It would have to do.

His arc reactor shone through his shirt and as he stared at it, he realized that whoever had changed his clothes had surely gotten a good look at it too. For the second time in a short period, his knees felt unusually unsteady. He couldn’t trust just anyone with his arc reactor. They would use him like Obie had. Paralyzed on the couch, shrapnel slowly moving closer and closer to his heart as air blew through the hole in his sternum, fear, confusion, and anger clutching his brain.

_Sir, your heart rate is elevating to a level of distress. Do you require assistance?_

“No, J.” It was an obvious lie, and the longer that he stared at the mirror the more he wanted to smash it. He tore his gaze away and forced himself to take a deep breath. He was only struggling to breathe a little. The arc reactor was still in.

He made his way to the elevator. Every moment enclosed in the metal box he felt more and more compressed. It was a breath of fresh air when he stepped out of the elevator and-

_**DANGER** _

Something clattered to the ground. Tony was immediately alert, staring at the assembled team, all bathed in red. He looked at the projectile. It was a knife.

“Is this an active attempt on my life?” he managed to ask, though his heart had near stopped as he faced down the team. He was glad he had his bracelets on, though he wasn’t sure he could take on all three of them in such an enclosed area. Clint fiercely scowled at him.

“It’s over, you bastard,” the archer snarled, notching an arrow. “I don’t know how you got here or what you’ve done with Stark, but unmask yourself _now_ , Loki.”

Tony stared. Then slowly blinked. He couldn’t help the incredulous bark of laughter that jumped from his mouth. "Alright, alright. Which one of you has the camera?" No one else seemed amused. "I...you're not joking. Okay. How can I put this into the simplest terms possible? I am not Loki. In case you've all hit with some brain trauma, I am Tony Stark. Y'know, team consultant. The guy who owns the building, the very same building you're threatening me in?"

"Give it up, Loki. You gave it away the very second you started using your magic," Natasha said, green eyes fierce as they locked into him. The most magic Tony had ever used was when he was four years old and one of his nannies had bought him this trick kit he had wanted. He soon grew bored of it and began ripping the cards up for his own amusement.

"If you're talking about the... _thing_ , that's not magic. Probably. I haven't had much time to test it yet."

“What thing?” Steve asked, suspicion painted across his face.

“Oh, you know.” Tony shrugged, feigning nonchalance. The team was against him and that didn’t bode well for him. “The thing. The invisible force around me that stops people from trying to hurt me. That thing. You all know what I’m talking about. Now is this useless Loki-busting team disbanded so I can go on with my day, or do I need to be watching out for knife attacks from above?”

“You’re not going anywhere, _Stark_ ,” Barton snarled. He didn’t believe a single word coming from the engineer’s mouth clearly.

“Yeah? And you’re going to stop me with that archaic weapon, huh?” Tony sneered back, meeting anger with his own snark and bravado. Rogers got between them before anything could escalate further. Or, at least he tried.

“Both of you stand down.”

“You’re telling _me_ to stand down? I’m not even on your fucking team, Captain Asshat! You can’t order me around.” Tony snarled, anger and fear now completely directed towards the blonde. He could feel his heart fluttering in his chest, and he didn’t know what to do with all these, well, he didn’t have a word for what he was feeling right now. He was just a normal human. He didn’t have powers. He wasn’t _supposed_ to have powers. He was pissed off and frustrated and confused and he planned to lash out at anyone who challenged him, _damnit_. “What, you think you threaten _me_ in my _own_ house and then tell me to stand down? Honestly, I don’t know what to tell you except for the fact that you’re crazy as shit!”

“Hey, now-“ Steve started, taking a step in Tony’s direction.

“Get the fuck away from me!” The shorter man yelled, and he felt it ripple, felt it roar, like a crashing wave. The captain staggered back. The room flashed red and red and red and he couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m going to my lab,” he announced to a now silent room. He was met with no opposition and as the elevator doors closed, he stared at the disaster he had left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading. Comments and kudos are appreciated so, so, _so_ much, but as usual not mandatory. I hope the next chapter will be up soon.
> 
> Adios,
> 
> Red


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to chapter 3 of the Moon was Red and Dangerous. 
> 
> I am tired as hell. I really like writing this story and am very happy to hear you guys seem to like reading it.
> 
> Without further ado...chapter 3.

It was almost like a force field— force pulse?— of sorts. But why? What had caused it? He was more than certain that before the battle with Loki this had not been an ability that he had held. He was human. A mortal among gods and super soldiers. Albeit, a smart one, but a mortal nonetheless. He was weak. Vulnerable. Yet, for some reason, that had been taken away from him. His vulnerability.

For some reason, that made him feel more raw and open than ever. People could see now. They could see when he had fear, they could see that he perceived them as dangerous. Did he perceive them as dangerous? Or were they?

He let out a groan, planting his head on the desk. He needed a drink. Perhaps more than just one. He shifted, pushing his face into the sleeve of his t-shirt and almost gagged. He needed to shower first. Shower first, then drink. Maybe drink in the shower. Did he really want to go all the way back up to his floor, though? He knew he had alcohol in the lab. The engineer glanced around the room, brown eyes landing on the emergency shower. That would have to do.

He woke up at some point to someone standing over him, prying a bottle of whiskey from his closed hand. Tony mumbled something that he himself couldn’t understand, fully opening his eyes to see the blurred form of Clint Barton. He didn’t look happy. In fact, he looked pretty pissed off, grey eyes stormy. Tony wondered for a second if he was about to get shot in the head with an arrow.

“Stark.”

“Barton,” he mumbled, dragging his face off the table. “What’re you doin’ here?” he slurred.

“ _You_ invited me here. Do you not remember?” Suspicion tinged the archer’s voice and for a split second, Tony did distinctly recollect telling JARVIS to tell Barton to get his feathery ass down to the lab. He must have blacked out after that, he didn’t remember much. Maybe he needed to stop drinking, but it sure was a nice fill for the void that he constantly felt.

“No, I remember,” Tony was quick to assure before Clint thought that Loki had killed him and put a mind clone in his place. Then again, he wasn’t sure Clint had ever stopped believing that. “I just...uh.” He sat up straight, swiveling around in his chair as if looking for something. “One second.” He knew he had _something_ for the agent. What was it, and where had he put it?

It was only after he got up did he notice the hearing aids and large manilla folder that had apparently been underneath his backside. The folder had _Barton_ sloppily scrawled across the front, so there was no denying who that was for.

“Here.” He recalled now that Barton had wanted to speak to him about the improvements to his hearing aids. “As improved as you’re going to get. Top of the line.” He eyed the folder before pushing it over to the archer. “And uh...here. I’ve got no idea what’s in there, open at your own risk.”

The other man gingerly took both things from the engineer, and while he made no move to put in the hearing aids, he opened the latch on the folder and pulled out what looked like...photographs? What? Clint’s expression, which had been almost scarily neutral the entire conversation, twisted. He looked shocked. And angry. Well, angrier. And almost like he wanted to simultaneously hurt Tony and hug him at the same time.

“My photos. From my room.”

 _Ohhhhh_. Blackout Drunk Tony was still a genius, he supposed. Even if he didn’t exactly remember making copies of the photographs, he must have at some point. And then replaced the originals with the replicas and torn those up when he smashed Clint’s room.

“If not for your stupid _thing_ I would punch you in the face right now,” Clint said, but the threat held no fire and that was as close to an apology that Tony was going to get for the accusations this morning. He had no idea what Steve had told his teammate, but apparently between the words of Captain Goldenheart and a Tony Stark Kind Act (an absolute rarity, wasn’t it?) Barton seemed less convinced that the goateed man was actually a megalomaniac alien with a passion for killing, and that was always a step in the right direction. If he could win them back over with gifts, gain their trust again— why did he care? They weren’t his team. They weren’t his friends. They were just a couple of superpowered, so to speak, freaks of nature. Soldiers. Spies. Gods.

_And now I’m one of them._

“You’re an asshole, Stark.”

“So I’ve been told. Now scram, Legolas. I’ve got things to do, people to see.”

“Alcohol to drink?” Clint asked sarcastically, putting the bottle of whiskey back on his desk. Tony smirked, snatching it back up.

“Precisely.”

* * *

It turned out he couldn’t drink more because he had another meeting with the shareholders about SI stock following the alien invasion. Damn, he hated those old guys, but if he didn’t pay attention, Pepper would skin him alive later. She was very unhappy with him recently, between him being flung out the window and the portal incident, but those were on the same day so why was she mad at him for both? It wasn’t fair.

 _“I may be your ex, Tony, but I am still your friend, and I care about you. Happy cares about you. Rhodey cares about you. You can’t just- you can’t-“_ then she had started crying. It had been pretty awkward.

Regardless, he knew he was on thin ice with that woman and she was as scary as Natasha when she really got mad, which was why he was forcing himself to sit through this god-awful meeting, half-heartedly inputting snarky comments where they weren’t needed just to hear her whisper-snap, “Tony!”

Eventually, he couldn't take it anymore. He scooted his chair out and a bathroom break to escape the droning murmurs of his board of Charlie Brown adults.

He went to the stall first, more for the routine of things than an actual desire to use the restroom. As he washed his hands, he noticed a dark green, battered-looking folder on the counter. He hazarded a glance around. He was the only one in the bathroom at this time and no one had been leaving when he had entered. His curiosity quickly got the better of him and he slid over to take a peek. Calculations, equations, sketches, all crammed onto sheet upon sheet of paper. The folder of an SI employee, then? A notebook was tucked into one pocket. He opened it and found “Property of Ruben B. Davidson, R & D Level 5: Chemistry and Biotechnology.” The next few pages contained details of potential inventions that made Tony’s heart quicken in a good way.

He needed to meet Ruben and talk these sketches over.

* * *

He took a deep breath and stepped out of the elevator on R&D Level 5— Chemistry and Biotechnology— and immediately headed for the section for chemical engineers. He was on a warpath for the person who owned this folder, this Ruben Davidson. Why were such plans just stuffed haphazardly in a folder instead of being presented to a board at this very moment?

He could feel the curious gaze of his employees, but when he looked, everyone was ‘hard at work.’ He snorted to himself and continued on his way, knowing that the moment that he left, they would be talking about him.

He passed the break room. Paused. Ducked in. A group of employees was laughing and talking. One sat in the corner alone, though he was obviously listening in on the conversation. He cleared his throat. Silence.

“Do any of you know who Ruben Davidson is and where I can find him?”

The silence stretched on for another second. Tony checked his watch with an air of impatience. “I don’t have all day.”

“I’m Ruben,” a soft voice said hesitantly from behind the billionaire. He whirled around and the world erupted into red, dazzling like a million rubies sunlight. In the center of it, a shorter (than Tony by like an inch), bespectacled man with an oversized, frumpled shirt, wrinkled slacks, sweater vest, and an ill-fitting lab coat. The look was completed with sun-kissed skin, a mess of graying, wild, wavy curls, and a beard. Dark brown eyes met his own for a brief second before darting away.

First of all, Davidson was _hot_. Well, maybe not hot, but he was cute. Sexy, in a...disheveled and obviously smart professor sort of way. Like, stayed up all night grading term papers in biochemistry, physics, and mathematics and had to quickly jump out of bed to get to work after spending a few hours tanning on the beaches of Mexico. Not that there was an official look for that, per se, but— he was quickly falling down a mind gutter.

Second, why was Davidson _red?_ Was Tony’s warning system off? There was no way that this guy who kinda looked like a strong wind would blow him over registered on the same scale as Captain America.

Tony realized he had been staring for too long. Davidson was wringing his hands nervously. Something in his posture had shifted, but Tony didn’t know what. The taller of the two finally gained his composure and asked, “Who’s your supervisor?”

There was a quiet snort and a giggle from behind him. He didn’t bother to turn around.

“Dr. Feelan, Mr. Stark,” Davidson replied. He sounded resigned as if he was expecting to be in trouble. He’d noticed his folder in Tony’s hands. Tony made no attempt to give it back. Ruben made no attempt to reach for it. His color never wavered.

“And why aren’t your designs in front of a board right now?”

“…sorry, what?”

“You heard me. Designs. Board.”

Davidson’s ears colored a little, what seemed to be an embarrassed flush riding to his face. “Dr. Feelan said they’re unrealistic and not cost-effective. I- honestly, I was going to throw them away-“

_Redredredredredred-_

Davidson was a puzzle. A bright red one. Tony wanted to figure him out. But he needed to be careful. One wrong step and Davidson could end up on the other side of the room. Whether that was because his employee was fleeing or had been thrown by Tony’s warning system had yet to be decided. He needed to maintain his professional attitude (even if all he wanted to do was hug him and congratulate him on his genius) for the time being. He had the feeling anything else wouldn’t bode well.

“They’re quite impressive and with some mild tweaking on the aforementioned subjects, it could help propel this company even further in the direction of clean energy.” Both true facts. He gave Davidson a trademark Stark smile. “Could we discuss those plans over lunch?”

Davidson’s color (and his face) only got darker. Then, his gaze drifted past Tony’s shoulders, focusing on something behind him and for a second he looked decidedly nervous, a flash of fear darting across his face. Tony turned around and rolled his eyes almost instantaneously. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.

“Ugh. What do you want?” he groused, eyeing the two. One was orange, the other yellow, neither really a _threat_ , he supposed. That didn't mean they weren't irritating him.

“Director Fury is requesting your presence. Immediately,” yellow said. Tony let out a long, drawn-out sigh.

“Tell him I’m busy.”

“Tell him yourself, Mr. Stark,” orange snapped. Someone had clearly woken up on the wrong side of the bed. “This is non-negotiable.”

Tony projected the most incredulous look that he could manage at the pair. Neither seemed moved. Usually, Tony wasn’t against causing a scene, but he was sure that if he did, Davidson would run far away from him and never return and take his genius ideas with him. “This better be fucking quick,” he grumbled, then turned his attention back to Davidson, who was— gone.

Shit. Tony hadn’t even heard him leave. He was still holding the other man’s folder. Now he would have to hunt him down again.

Whatever it was that S.H.I.E.L.D. needed better have been a life-threatening emergency of the highest degree. Steve had better have been bleeding out like a stuck pig over the dead body of the president. Fury owed him big time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, as usual
> 
> Comments and kudos are not mandatory, but they really make my day :)
> 
> See you next time,
> 
> \- Red


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to chapter 4 of The Moon was Red and Dangerous.
> 
> I hope you all are staying inside and staying safe in these times. Please enjoy this chapter.

“I’m warning you right now—“ Tony said upon seeing the thick, silver cuffs that a scientist had approached him with, “—the moment those cuffs touch my wrist, I’m suing S.H.I.E.L.D. to hell and back. My attorneys are going to have a field day. They’ve never taken down a government agency, but I’m damn sure they could try and win.”

“Mr. Stark-“ the scientist was nervous, unsure. Tony crossed his arms, maintaining eye-contact with a look of pure indignation on his expression.

“What, you think I’m joking? Take one more step towards me, I dare you. You’re going to regret it.”

“Tony, stop giving him a hard time,” a new voice interjected. The brunet didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Only one man could hold that much self-righteousness in his voice as Tony was really the one who was being given a hard time. A sneer slid across his face as he glanced over his shoulder at the blonde.

“You’re saying I should let them restrain me?”

“No,” Steve answered calmly, blue eyes annoyingly earnest. Then, to the scientist, he said, “I’ll come with you two and keep an eye on him so he doesn’t get out of hand.”

“Out of hand?” Tony repeated snappishly, but Steve didn’t grace him with a response and the scientist nodded sheepishly, giving Tony a wary glance.

Thus began the tests. It was relatively normal stuff. Almost like a doctor’s visit if he ignored the blonde, buff, captain “supervising” them and the scientist beside him. They took his temperature, pulse, blood pressure, told him to stop drinking so much if he didn’t want his livers to fail, the normal stuff. He found himself still a bit sore from the invasion. It had been just over a week ago, so he supposed that was to be expected, but his chest felt heavier than usual, arc reactor arching dully, yet more prominently than it used to. Apparently, they could tell that too, something in the way he held himself, perhaps.

“Does your chest hurt, Mr. Stark?” the (green) medic conducting his check-up asked. The scientist wrote something down. Tony rolled his eyes and grit his teeth. He didn’t want anyone looking at his arc reactor. He already felt self-conscious enough that it was shining through his temporarily shield-issued duds and he had caught Rogers trying to subtly catch a glance. The last thing he needed or wanted was doctors poking at him.

“No.”

“Are you sure? If you just-”

“No.”

“Tony-” started Steve, a warning tone to his voice, but Tony cut him off with a third snapped: “No!”

The mood of the room shifted, becoming more tense and sour, tainted by the engineer’s bad mood. Both the scientist and the doctor remained in the green, but Rogers’ red was like a beacon to Tony’s eyes, glaringly and annoyingly bright. He could feel his hackles begin to rise as the two of them stared at each other for a long moment, cold brown against an open blue, before Steve finally dipped his head and looked away. It was only after the captain looked away did the sound of everything clattering back into place register to Tony. He blinked, looking around as a nearby tissue box fell from a few inches in the air back to its original position on the counter. Had he done that? Was this force field changing, had it evolved into some sort of telekinesis? Or was it just preparing to shield Tony with everything it could collect?

The scientist wrote something down.

The testing continued.

Tony was in the psych evaluation for about three minutes before he decided that it wasn’t for him and he insulted the man until he cried. Steve gave him a disapproving look as the psychiatrist exited whilst sobbing, but that wasn’t Tony’s problem.

The testing continued.

Next was the part that the brunet hated with a passion: the physicals. He had to run laps, do push-ups, sit-ups, jumping jacks, and apparently everything else they could think of. All while the epitome of human evolution, Captain Fucking America, watched him. He drew the line at swimming. He did not swim. He did not do water. Besides that one small incident, however, it was all fine. Things were looking up and he was looking Loki-free (which he knew he had already been Loki-free, but apparently SHIELD had to go to every measure to make sure their lowly consultant was still okay). Everything had been fine until they got to sparring.

Tony would never admit to being the best at hand-to-hand combat. In fact, he was pretty shitty at it. He relied rather heavily on his technology, though he had been trying to improve on that. There would be a day he would be stuck in a situation without his suit and need to fight his way out. (Though he could build his way out if they even gave him a single piece of scrap metal.) So, he was on the sparring mat, getting ready to get his ass kicked ten ways to Sunday. They brought out his opponent. A lower-level agent, they had promised. Despite being “lower-level” he was still a fairly vibrant yellow, bordering dangerously close to orange. He was about 6 feet, well-muscled, and looked like he could probably break Tony in half like a toothpick if he really tried.

They met on the mat. The scientists were talking amongst themselves. The guy grabbed Tony by the shoulder, leaned in real close, and muttered, “Listen, you alien shit. My sister died during the attack on the Helicarrier, and I must say, I look forward to pummeling your face in regardless of your form.” Then, he backed away before anyone could see anything.

Tony was so screwed.

“Hey, is there any way I could get a different partner? Perhaps one that wouldn’t want to see Loki’s head on a plate?” the engineer asked, but he was ignored. The guy was giving him demon eyes.

Fucking great.

“Begin!”

Tony had all of two seconds before the guy turned from a nice mango yellow to as red as a matador’s flag and charged him. The color disappeared. The air was knocked out of him as he hit the ground and a hand was wrapped around his neck, cutting off his circulation.

Oh my God, for all the times for this thing to not work, you have got to be kidding me, he thought as he futilely writhed, fingers jabbing uselessly at the arm pinning him. Of all the humiliating defeats, this had to be one of the worst indeed. Two seconds. But, he couldn’t breathe and even he would admit that a closed windpipe wouldn’t bode well for him, especially with his already limited airways. He slammed his hand into the mat, a clear sign that he was tapping out, admitting defeat.

But the guy didn’t stop. He just tightened his grip even as Tony continued to slam his hand onto the mat and the scientists called for some backup and Steve edged closer and closer. At this point, he was going to lose vision before he could see any colors again.

Lose vision.

Tony drew his hand back and instead slammed his fingers into the guy’s eyes. The agent yelled in pain, grip loosening, and the shorter man took the chance to nail him in the stomach with his foot and scramble away chest heaving. He needed the colors. Where were the colors?

_Shit shit shit shit-_ _Red!_

Steve slammed into the man at the same time that red flooded Tony’s vision and both the super soldier and the agent made their journey away from the engineer and across the gym.

Of course, because of Tony Stark’s Shit Luck (™), _that_ was when the reinforcements decided to make their way in. Not when he was being strangled within an inch of his life and then valiantly throwing off his attacker, but specifically when Steve, a _friendly_ , was tossed like a trash bag.

Tony was suing the hell out of Fury. For emotional distress.

* * *

_There is no indication through the results of the physical and checkup that this is none other than Tony Stark. He does not appear or act compromised, but it is recommended that he is kept under supervision on account of his undefined ability, alcoholism, and signs of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder._

“This is full of shit,” Tony snapped, tearing his eyes away from the report and back to Steve. Steve said nothing, shrugging those broad shoulders of his. “I do not have PTSD,” Tony continued with a growl. “That psych evaluation lasted all of two seconds, and that man was crying for all two of them.” Steve just shrugged again. He had a look on his face that the brunet did not like.

PTSD was for soldiers and people with trauma. People who couldn’t cope. Tony had been coping from the very moment that he could walk, and coping like a champ, mind you.

“The audacity of that man-” the billionaire began venomously, but when his phone buzzed he found himself distracted. He had an email, which was nothing new. A work email. Normally, he would glance at such things and then immediately ignore them until Pepper got onto him about it, but he found himself staring at the subject and the sender with a slightly slack mouth. He unlocked his phone, opening the email application, a small grin coming to his face.

> _**Ruben Davidson** _  
>  _rdavidson@starkindustries.com_
> 
> _To: tstark@starkindustries.com_  
>  _Cc:_  
>  _Subject: Meeting Date?_
> 
> Mr. Stark,
> 
> My apologies for leaving so hastily today. I suddenly remembered that I had a meeting that I could not afford to be late to. I still would like to pursue a conversation with you concerning the blueprints and sketches that you found in my folder, if that is possible.
> 
> Thank you,
> 
> Ruben Davidson
> 
> _Ruben Bruce Davidson_  
>  _S.I. R & D Chemistry and Biotechnology_

Tony was pretty sure that the meeting mentioned was bullshit, but he was too ecstatic to care. He had been sure that he was going to have to hunt down Davidson, but instead the other man was coming to him! He immediately whipped out a reply.

> _**Tony Stark** _  
>  _tstark@starkindustries.com_
> 
> _To: rdavidson@starkindustries.com_  
>  _Cc:_  
>  _Subject: Re: Meeting Date?_
> 
> Mr. Davidson,
> 
> First of all, please call me Tony. Mr. Stark was my father. Secondly, no problem at all. It seemed I also had a meeting that I was unaware of. Would you be willing to meet on Friday, May 21st at 12:30 p.m.? I’ll make sure to bring your folder.
> 
> -Tony
> 
> _Anthony Edward Stark_  
>  _S.I Chairman_

Tony waited for a minute, reloading his messages. There was no response. He sighed, ignored Steve’s curious gaze, and rubbed his fingers against the worn edges of Davidson’s folder as they drove back to the tower in silence. They arrived, he exited the car, and the moment he set foot in the elevator, his phone buzzed.

> _**Ruben Davidson** _  
>  _rdavidson@starkindustries.com_
> 
> _To: tstark@starkindustries.com_  
>  _Cc:_  
>  _Subject: Re: Re: Meeting Date?_
> 
> I’ll schedule a meeting on my calendar.
> 
> Thank you,
> 
> Ruben Davidson
> 
> _Ruben Bruce Davidson_  
>  _S.I. R & D Chemistry and Biotechnology_

Tony couldn’t hide his smile. Friday was going to make this entire shitty week worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, as usual
> 
> Comments and kudos are not mandatory, but they really, really make my day :)
> 
> See you next time,
> 
> \- Red


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to chapter 5 of the Moon was Red and Dangerous.
> 
> This chapter is mostly filler, I'll be honest, but I like how it turned out for the most part. This story is such a nice change from all the angst I write all the time. I have no idea if anyone is even going to get an email notification for this. I hope you all do.
> 
> I don't really have much to say here, so I hope you all enjoy it!

Thursday was arguably shittier than the rest of the days of the week until it wasn't.

The day had started with Tony rolling out of the bed with a hangover. He had gone down the common room. The Avengers were lounging around instead of going on their morning run. It was annoying. He didn’t trust them at the moment, and he was guessing that they didn’t trust him either judging by how close they were staying to him. He had bickered with Steve before retreating to his lab.

He found the lights— his lights— flickering more than ever. Of course, they were there often enough for him to judge his housemates’ colors. They were there often enough for him to try to figure out exactly what the extent of his powers was. Was it some sort of telekinesis as well as his shield? He tried lifting a few things and failed. He hypothesized that it had to do with the appearance of the colors as well. He tried to remember how he had felt yesterday at SHIELD during the appointment. Angry, predominantly. Annoyed. Perhaps a bit fearful, though he would never admit it.

He closed his eyes, focusing as hard as he could and tried to channel those three emotions. He let out a slow breath, inhaled. Exhaled. He could do this. The world was silent and dark and red yellow green sparkled in his hindbrain. And suddenly he was in the portal as Chitari spaceships exploded in front of his eyes, an icy feeling building from his toes and tying around his sorry excuse for a heart, and wrapping around his throat.

He was tiptoeing on a balance beam between life and death, and he had leaned too far and now he was falling, tumbling, twisting, turning, Tartarean terror surrounding him from all directions.

“Jesus Christ-“

He was ripped out of his flashback by a gasp and everything fell back into place both literally and metaphorically with a _slam._

Barton was staring at him, poised to flee in the doorway of his lab. He looked genuinely unsettled, mouth agape as he stared at the disarray of the lab. Then he seemed to steel himself, relaxing his posture even as he refused to enter the room.

“Team bond-" Clint suddenly stopped and cleared his throat "- _meeting._ There's a team meeting. Thor’s here.”

“Thor’s here?” Tony repeated, beyond grateful that his voice didn’t tremble or crack or do any other weird thing that would give his inward panic any outward sign. He didn’t think about spitting his typical retort of not being part of the team and being only a consultant.

“Something about it being a big favor from some dude named Heimdall. He’s gonna be here a while, I think, but I’m sure he can explain it better than I can.” A pause. “Catch you upstairs, _Carrie._ ”

With that, Barton darted away, leaving Tony alone with his thoughts and his powers.

“JARVIS?”

_Yes, Sir?_

“I…” He was about to ask a ridiculous question and feel utterly stupid for asking it. “Did I lift those things with my mind?”

_It would seem like it, Sir._

Tony couldn’t believe it. He had actually concentrated his “power” in order to do something other than throw people.

“J, project an energy reading of my lab in front of me, would you?”

The graph came up, and there it was. A harsh spike for all of a minute before a decline to the usual levels. Telekinesis. That must have been it. Not a shield exactly, but something that manipulated the energy around him. It seemed that he would be able to use it as more than just a force field if he could move past his fight or flight instinct. The colors just seemed to be some weird, added, bonus. Well, it wasn’t really a bonus.

Of course, with that figured out, there was still the overarching question of _how_ this happened. Abilities such as these didn’t just come from anywhere. Something had happened during the Battle of New York when all those goddamn aliens flew from the sky.

And who better to ask than a goddamn alien himself?

* * *

Apparently, team meetings consisted of hanging out in the living room and eating pizza. Clint was playing video games, completely whipping Thor at Mario Kart and cackling about it as he did. Thor seemed more focused on his pizza than the game. Natasha was curled on the couch, watching with a somewhat bored expression on her face as she shared a bowl of popcorn with Steve, who was even drinking a soda.

They looked like a group of friends, close friends. Tony guessed they were. He felt like an outsider the moment that he stepped on the floor, yet he couldn’t seem to will himself to move. He should go back to the lab and talk to Thor later. He wasn’t part of the team, he was only a consultant. (Plus, was it such a good idea to go talk to those reds? He didn’t know if he trusted them, not in the same way he trusted a red like Ruben Davidson.)

“Hey, Stark! You’re late!” Clint said without turning around, then let out a loud hoot as he passed the finish line first.

Oh no. Now he couldn’t go back.

So, he slicked on some of that Tony Stark Charm and made his way over to the couch, snatching a piece of popcorn from Natasha as he did so. She didn’t make a move to break his fingers, so he guessed it was okay.

“Man of Iron! A pleasure to see you, my friend,” Thor boomed with a hearty laugh as he slapped Clint on the back, a rather unusual, mischievous glint in his eyes. The archer yelped and winced and Thor’s smile only got more broad as the victory bragging came to an abrupt end.

“Point Break. How’s home?”

“Ah…” Thor’s jovial expression faltered. “My family is in a bit of disarray. My bro- Loki has been imprisoned, his magic bound. My mother is heartbroken at Loki’s actions and my father…” the blonde trailed off, looking very unhappy. He didn’t finish. Tony internally placed Odin in his “shitty fathers'' folder. Thor continued, “Regardless, as a protector of Midgard, it is my duty to return posthaste and assist with the rebuilding of this realm alongside my fellow warriors. So, I asked Heimdall to send me back.”

Tony was suddenly aware of three pairs of eyes on him. The team was waiting to see how he would react. If he was Loki, he was sure that he wouldn’t be able to refrain from saying something utterly spiteful about Thor and the royal family of Asgard. He wasn’t Loki, and he had nothing against Thor at the moment, so he just patted the blonde giant on the shoulder and said, “Welcome back, Thor,” before heading back to the couch. The room relaxed and bright reds flooded Tony’s view. It wasn’t a surprise at all to see that Thor was as red as the rest of the team. It was a collection of the “Earth’s Mightiest Heroes” after all. Tony idly wondered what color he would be. Knowing his luck, probably a shining green target with arrows that pointed his head and read “Punching Bag.”

He made it all of two steps to the couch before Thor, sounding rather confused, asked, “Is everything alright, Stark?”

Tony blinked and the atmosphere of the room seemed to shift again. Red swamped his vision in the forms of Steve and Natasha, red, smoky tendrils emanating off the both of them. Rogers was watching him with an almost wary expression on his face, and for some reason that seemed to make Tony feel a little bitter. Even after the test results turned out negative, they still didn’t believe him. Not that he cared anyway, they never trusted him in the first place. _Tony Stark: Not Recommended._

“You seem different..my senses appear to be perceiving you in a new manner.”

Tony turned so his back was to the two on the couch, a clear sign of confidence. They could have stabbed him, but his turned back showed that he was not fearful, unconcerned and uncaring about what they were doing even if he was honestly a little scared that it was going to be the last mistake of his life. “Tell them I’m not Loki so they can stop sitting on the edge of their chairs,” he demanded, and Thor was the one to blink in surprise now. Then, an almost amused expression flashed across his face for a second.

“Not to fret, my friends. Stark’s and Loki’s energies are not at all similar. If Stark was indeed my bro- was Loki, then he likely would have stabbed me the moment that he was close enough. Did I ever tell you all about the time that Loki turned into a snake because he knew I liked snakes? When I was close enough to admire the reptile, he transformed back and stabbed me! He always liked his knives a little too much...” Thor trailed off and Stark would have internally filed Loki in his “shitty siblings” folder if the black-haired demigod wasn’t already there.

He took the somewhat awkward silence as an opportunity, whirling around to glare at Rogers and Romanoff. “See? Sorry to disappoint, everyone. Not Loki, just your typical asshole Tony Stark. I know you’re all weeping because you don’t get to kick my ass into the floor.”

Steve at least had the decency to look ashamed. He opened his mouth, probably to say something noble and patriotic, but was interrupted by Thor.

“What? Why would you think that Stark was Loki? Has something happened?”

“A few days ago, Stark began to be able to throw us without touching us,” Clint spoke for the first time since initially greeting Tony. “So, we kinda assumed it was magic.”

“It’s telekinesis, dipshit,” Tony retorted hotly, expecting the archer to rise to the bait and argue with him so that the conversation could end. Clint just flippantly waved a hand.

“Whatever it is. Fury said that SHIELD results came out a bit inconclusive, so it was a bit of a relief when you came back from space. What caused it?”

Thor let out a contemplative sound, blue eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the short brunet before him. Then he shrugged his large shoulders and grinned almost sheepishly. “I do not know. Chitauri are extremely technologically advanced, but they cannot give people powers. But, Stark, the most sincere congratulations on your newfound abilities!”

“Thank you, Thor. You see, why can’t you all be more like him? He’s so accepting.”

“Granted, if your abilities are found to be from a source of negative power and you turn on us, I’ll have no choice but to defend our brothers in arms from you,” Thor continued in an equally cheery voice and Tony sighed.

“I spoke too soon. You’re all horrible.”

“My apologies that you feel that way, friend Stark,” the demigod said and slapped the engineer on the back as he passed, taking a seat on the ground next to Natasha’s legs.

“Wanna take the next round, Stark?” Clint asked. "You might be a tech genius, but I'll demolish you in Mario Kart."

Tony stared at the archer. Then he stared at the demigod, the spy, and the supersoldier. How were they a cohesive team? Before the battle, they had bickered non-stop. When the battle had been fought, sure, they had worked together, but after the battle everyone had gone to do their own thing. Now everyone was in his tower, amicable towards each other, acting like some sort of...dysfunctional family. Natasha was even braiding Thor’s hair, for heaven’s sake! (This was now officially the weirdest moment of Tony’s life.) How could they trust each other? Just because Nick Fury had put them together in a group and told them to save the world? He felt a sting of envy at their closeness but swiftly pushed it down. Once again, he reminded himself that he didn’t trust any of the Avengers any further than he could throw them without his suit, and it was beyond obvious to him that they didn’t trust him. 

“Tony?” Steve prompted, and the brunet drew out of his thoughts. He had a choice here. He could either go back to his lab and ignore the existence of these people in his house until the next morning and maybe drink some alcohol, or he could sit down here and waste his night ‘team bonding’ with a bunch of pretentious, self-righteous assholes (and Natasha). Team bonding for a team that he was merely a consultant for.

Well, he had already come to the meeting…maybe he would stay for a little longer if only to study the Avengers’ uncanny dynamic and nothing more. Not because he wanted to be included, or anything. After all, he was Tony Stark. It wasn’t like people saw him as anything more than a pompous piece of shit with no feelings and an unholy amount of money and he was unused to even a modicum of kindness like dragging him into a team bonding session under pretenses of a team meeting even after he had rejected the invitations to all the other ones before.

“One round, Barton,” Tony said, settling on the ground next to Clint. He completely missed the smug look that Natasha exchanged with Steve and the exchanging of dollar bills. “I’ve got work to be doing,” he grumbled, and the gray-eyed man barked out a laugh.

“Work? Like what you were doing when I entered?”

“Shut up. That was a highly sensitive experiment that you obviously ruined the results for.”

Clint merely stuck out his tongue and pressed the next button on the screen. It wasn’t until after an hour and the colors flickered in had passed did Tony realize that despite being so close to the entire team of reds that he hadn’t alerted once. He had even passed straight through Steve’s lights on his way to get a beer from the fridge and nothing had happened. No sense of danger.

Tony wasn’t sure what that said about him as a person. Could it be that...he was starting to _trust_ the team and they were no longer perceived to be a threat by him?

He snorted incredulously into his bottle.

Yeah, right. There had to be some other explanation.

 _...yeah._ Some other explanation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, comments are not mandatory, but they really, really make my day even if I don't respond to every single one of them! 
> 
> (I do apologize if I don't get to your comment, I am very awkward and even responding to comments is kinda nerve-wracking for me.)
> 
> Thank you and remember to stay safe,
> 
> Red


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to chapter 6 of the Moon was Red and Dangerous.
> 
> Just pretend like it hasn't been four months or something. I don't like this chapter a lot, but please enjoy.

* * *

The lunch meeting couldn’t come soon enough. Tony spent his entire morning in his office pretending to be productive until he couldn’t pretend any longer. He had a board meeting that he would have slept through if not for Pepper’s penetrating gaze. He wasn’t quite sure what about it all made him so excited to have a lunch meeting with Ruben, but then again the prospect of meeting another genius (okay, probably not a genius. Nowhere on Tony’s level. Just brilliant and cute) was thrilling.

Finally, it was 12:15 and Tony realized that he had no idea where he and Ruben were going to meet. They had completely neglected to speak about eating arrangements. It was no concern to Tony, though. He could get a seat in any restaurant with or without a reservation. He made his way down to the R&D Level 5, planting himself near the elevator door. People began to trail out for lunch, but the engineer paid them no mind, eyes scanning the room until he landed on a familiar mop of curly hair. Ruben was sweeping papers off his workspace and into his backpack, chatting to a pretty blonde woman.

Tony was hit with a sudden sting of jealousy, but he knew he had to play it cool. He wasn’t sure what compelled him to walk over to the pair, but the moment he reached a four-foot radius of Ruben, the colors blinked into existence. The man was still red as red could be, the blonde he was speaking with a solid green.

“Davidson,” Tony called, and the red pulsed once, twice, and the employee in question was staring straight at him, a confused look on his face.

“Mr. Stark- we can continue the conversation later, Lindsey, sorry.” The blonde, Lindsey, left, scurrying away from the two of them. Tony _did not_ glare at her retreating form because that would be unprofessional and he was the paradigm of professionalism.

“Surely you haven’t forgotten our lunch meeting?”

“Of course not, but isn’t that set for twelve-thirty? It’s only eleven-thirty?” Ruben glanced at his desktop, the time of 11:30 prominently displayed on the left of the screen. Tony raised an eyebrow, glancing at his own wristwatch. Nope. 12:30.

“Has someone tampered with your time?” he asked and the other man stared at him for a moment, slow realization dawning on his face before he flushed crimson and ducked his head.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark. The uh, interns, are a little pissed at me right now.”

Tony was pretty sure that if any other person used an excuse as flimsy as that, he would have eviscerated them. Ruben seemed to know that too, sweeping his papers up faster and cramming them into his backpack, every single muscle tense as he waited for the billionaire's next words. Luckily for Davidson, he was not any other person.

“Which interns?” Tony asked, edging closer. “Do you want me to fire them?”

“Um...no? I’d prefer if you didn’t, it was my fault in the first place.”

Tony let out a noncommittal noise. “Well, it's no worry if we’re late since we forgot to decide on where we were meeting anyway. Do you have any place in mind?”

“I’m fine with anything,” Davidson said instead of actually replying, which was interesting. Ruben was an interesting person and even this small interaction just kept on piquing Tony’s curiosity. How did someone as…nervous, small little innocent _gummy bear_ , end up being a red?

“Any dietary restrictions?”

“Er...I’m a vegetarian,” the shorter man replied, pulling on his backpack. That completely amplified the professor look tenfold and Tony looked away to hide the sudden smirk that crossed his face.

“Ugh. Rabbit food. C’mon. I have a place.”

Which was how he ended up at a semi-nice (by Tony’s standards) Italian place sitting across from an extremely fidgety Ruben who looked as if he was contemplating his life decisions.

“Soooo…” he tapped the table, staring at the curly-haired man. “Mr. Davidson-“

“Bruce,” the other interrupted, “Please call me Bruce.”

Tony wrinkled an eyebrow. Bruce. Well, Davidson looked more like a Bruce than a Ruben. “Nickname or middle name?”

“Middle.”

“Fits you more than Ruben. I mean, Ruben? Is this the Old Testament?” Tony let out a small snort and Bruce returned it with a smile that didn’t truly reach his eyes as he continued to fidget, expression muted.

“I was named after my mother. She died when I was young.”

 _AWKWARD._ There goes ol’ Tony Foot-In-His-Mouth Stark. He just _had_ to make a name joke. He was an idiot. “Oh, I…” he trailed off, grimacing. “Can you just pretend I didn’t say that?”

Bruce smiled slightly, eyes shining with amused sympathy. “No. I’m going to hold it over your head forever, Mr. Stark.”

Tony snorted, relaxing. It was obvious that the other man was joking and that meant the air was clear. “It’s Tony, first of all,” he said in a huffy tone, “and wow I can’t believe you would do that to me. After I brought you your folder and everything.” He placed his hand on his chest in a dramatic fashion. “I’m so hurt.”

“The folder that you took from me,” the bespectacled man countered, though he was quickly rebutted with a playfully indignant, “I did not _take_ it. You left it in the bathroom! What was I supposed to do? Just let anyone steal your brilliance?”

Bruce blushed, ducking his head, and mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like _they weren’t that good_. Tony frowned a little, though said nothing as the waitress walked over to the table. After orders were made, drinks delivered (wine for him because it was never too early to drink, Orange Fanta for Bruce), there was a beat of silence in which Bruce drank soda and pretended that he didn’t know that Tony was staring at him, scrutinizing him as he tried to puzzle out Ruben Bruce Davidson.

It was a lot harder to hold a conversation with Davidson than he had expected. Then again, this was supposed to be a work meeting, not two friends catching up. If anything, he should have been more surprised that it was only mildly awkward instead of painfully awkward. SI R&D was basically nirvana for nerds, and while communication skills were needed, SI had been known to hire more…eccentric geniuses at times. Where Bruce laid on the scale of “strong communicator” to “eccentric genius” he did not know yet. He was guessing it was closer towards “eccentric genius.”

“So, um…speaking of...do you have my folder?” The other man’s quiet words tore him out of his thoughts and Tony was quick to deliver it, silently noting the way that Davidson gingerly took the folder, as if he was expecting it to be ripped away. As if Tony was some middle school bully. He snorted internally. Blunt fingers ran over the battered outside, thumbing the folder open briefly. Brown eyes flickered up to the engineer, then swiftly looked away with an almost guilty expression.

“Go ahead. Check to see if it’s all still there. I won’t be offended,” Tony said with a shrug. He was indeed offended, of course.

The guilt didn’t disappear, though Bruce did seem to relax just a little. He didn’t take more than a few seconds, gaze swiftly skimming the papers. “Sorry,” he apologized as he closed the folder. “I’m just a little wary after some of my past employers.”

“Oh?” Tony asked, leaning forward to convey his interest. Perhaps there would be some part of this story that explained why he was red. 

Unfortunately, it didn’t seem that Bruce was planning to elaborate further than a lackluster ‘yeah’ which prompted the businessman to have to ask, “Where did you use to work?”

Before the other man could answer, the waiter came with the food. Bruce muttered something that sounded like, “Oh, here and there,” before digging into his cheese ravioli.

The rest of the lunch period was essentially strictly business. Whenever Tony tried to get off-topic, tried to get to know a little more about Bruce, the shorter man would just steer him right back on course with very little give. It was like a lunch meeting with Pepper. Bummer.

While he may not have gotten to know much about Davidson’s backstory, he learned plenty about the man now. He was absolutely brilliant. When they talked about engineering, he was right on Tony’s heels, and when they talked Science, the flow between them was like electricity through a sea of electrons. Bruce was easily the only person at SI who would ever be close to challenging Tony’s own intellect, and that made him excited in a way he hadn’t been for months. He wanted to know more about Bruce, and not just in the analytical way. He wanted to be friends (okay, more than friends) with Bruce.

“You and I have such great chemistry together, let’s try to do some biology together too,” Tony blurted out. Bruce just stared at him. Tony slowly withered inside, though his expression outwardly never changed. He couldn’t believe he had just said that. Well, actually, yes, he could, but still. Bruce furrowed his brows, confusion settling on his expression as he opened his mouth.

“ _Er_...if you’d like? I didn’t quite get my degree in biology, though. Um... physics and biochemistry, actually. Definitely took a few classes of biomedical and mechanical engineering.”

Tony was torn between relief and disappointment that Bruce hadn’t understood nor responded to his shitty pick-up line. He didn’t know what he had been thinking. He didn’t even know if Davidson was gay or bi or anything. Also, there was a _big, glaring_ _problem_ of Davidson being his employee. Despite his inner turmoil, he just gave the curly-haired man an easy smile. “You should come see my labs sometime. It’s like Candyland.”

Bruce did not return his smile, instead paling a little. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea…” he trailed off, wringing his hands, “I don’t want anyone to think you’re giving me special treatment.”

“I’m not!” Tony protested. He was a liar.

“How many of your employees do you invite to your personal lab?” the other man asked dryly, and Tony just shrugged, turning the charm on full-blast with an easy smile. Sadly, if anything, it just made Davidson tenser.

“Seriously, don’t worry about it. I’m not going to tell anyone. Are you?” Before the other man could answer, he surged on, “I’d just love to really get into that big brain of yours in an unprofessional environment. As...friends, even. It would be fun!”

Bruce studied him for a long moment, something sharp and _wild_ in his deep chocolate gaze that made Tony feel vaguely uncomfortable, stomach twisting like he had drank too much. It was the type of look that involuntarily made the engineer’s eyes sweep around the room, highlighting the world in an array of greens and yellows, and one singular red who stared right back at him.

Finally, he shorter brunet sighed and averted his eyes. “I don’t know…I don’t think so.”

“Oh.” He had been rejected. For a second, Tony couldn’t hide his disappointment. Bruce looked vaguely pained, though said nothing. He had no intention to change his mind at this moment. Tony sighed and tried to inject some level of professionalism into his voice. “Well, this was really informative. Good work all around, Davidson. I look forward to seeing Level 5 R&D department present some of these in front of a board at a later date.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

And they were back to square one.

Well, there had never been a person that Tony hadn’t been able to wear down. He refused to let Davidson be an exception.

He would just have to try harder.

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, comments are not mandatory, but they really, really make my day even if I don't respond to every single one of them!
> 
> (I do apologize if I don't get to your comment, I am very awkward and even responding to comments is kinda nerve-wracking for me.)
> 
> Thank you and remember to stay safe,
> 
> Red


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